Smoke and Mirrors
by your candy perfume girl
Summary: She can practically feel the vibrations as Cora thrusts her fists against the glass on the other side, desperate to break through and rescue her life's work before it crumbles into ash. The thought brings a smirk to her face, and it's a relief, really, to think that perhaps she is not the only one who has ended up so unbearably miserable. Regina, mirrors, and Mommy. Warning inside.


**Disclaimer —** _Once Upon a Time_ is the property of ABC and Horowitz/Kitsis. The title is taken from the Gotye song of the same name, which is very unintentionally the perfect companion to this fic. I make no profit, monetary or otherwise, from this exercise in creativity.

**Spoilers** — through 2x02 "We Are Both".

**Warning** — brief, non-graphic mention of rape; rape aftermath.

* * *

When Regina is still a very new bride — after Rumplestiltskin has abandoned her to Leopold's men, having taught her enough magic to leave her yearning for more, but not enough so that she can successfully fight for her freedom — she begins to decorate her chambers with mirrors. There is really no pleasure to be gained in her own reflection, in the fine jewels and silks that adorn her body or the barely tempered rage burning in her eyes, but it is... comforting, somehow, to stare into the face of the one person left in the world on whom she can rely. Her captivity is the carefully crafted result of a series of betrayals — by her stepdaughter, her parents, her husband, and her mentor — so Regina no longer trusts anyone else to help her break free from her husband's prison. Her reflection is the only constant left in her world.

Sometimes, after a long day of empty, meaningless frivolities in her husband's court, Regina gazes into her favorite mirror and wonders if her mother is somewhere on the other side, trapped, pressed up against the glass and watching her eagerly. She thinks that Cora would be so thrilled, so smug to see that Regina's grand plan for escape was successful only in placing a crown on her head and a leash around her neck. Her mother is probably laughing on the other side of the looking glass right now, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes as she congratulates herself on the fruition of all of her endless years of scheming. Just as she always planned, her daughter has all of the power at her fingertips that Cora never could manage to grasp on her own.

But then, Regina has done nothing with that power but squander it since the day she took her vows. Her mother's words still ring in her ears — _raise the tributes, form a personal guard, let everyone know where the power lies _— and for that reason, Regina refuses to put any of her mother's advice into action. She will furtively scour every corner of this kingdom until she can find a way to strengthen her magic and escape this cage at last, but she will _not_ become her mother; she will not use her crown to crush others so that she is the only one left standing.

"No, a nice cabin on the far shores of the Distant Sea sounds lovely, don't you think, Mother?" she murmurs, grazing her fingertips along the mirror's surface, leaving smudges in their wake. "Somewhere quiet and peaceful, just me and nature. A place where I can never be hurt again." She can practically feel the vibrations as Cora thrusts her fists against the glass on the other side, desperate to break through and rescue her life's work before it crumbles into ash. The thought brings a smirk to her face, and it's a relief, really, to think that perhaps she is not the only one who has ended up so unbearably miserable.

But on those late nights when Leopold comes to her, his breath stinking of wine, to have his fill of the soft and supple curves that make her body so irresistible to him, all of it is meaningless. After he departs, Regina crawls out of her bed, pain sharp and searing between her legs and her thighs sticky with blood and semen, and staggers over to the mirror hanging from her wall. She tries to slow her breathing, to calm her thoughts and let the magic within her heal her broken body, just like the books say, but it hurts too much, all of it. Poisonous doubts fill her mind, whispered in her mother's deceptively kind voice, and she cannot hold it in any longer. "Mama, I'm sorry," she chokes out, collapsing against the frame. Tears roll down her cheeks in streams as she presses her hand against the cool glass. "Please, Mama, help me. I'll be good, I promise, just make it _stop_."

But there is no answer to be found in the looking glass; there is only her own reflection, alone as always, and Regina must finally admit to herself that there is not a trace of comfort to be found in these mirrors after all.


End file.
